The New One
by Irkala
Summary: I have always tried to envision a first hand exchange/encounter with the prime-evil force that is Terumi.


I was his new assistant.

I hadn't met him, not yet. But I had heard of him; Captain Hazama of the Intelligence Department. When people mentioned him—or even seemed to recall him there was always a strange silence that appeared on their faces. It seemed that deep down there was an image of fear, an image of something I didn't quite understand yet. It was as if they didn't know why they felt this sensation, yet they still shuttered deep down at something this man presented. _This man _almost seems like I'm giving him too much credit given the circumstances. I was young though, and a bit eager to work for someone of such high status.

I came from a family of plain status, not much to outgoing to speak of. Yet, making such headway and attaining a shadow of someone who was so informed and educated was a beacon of individuality for me, I couldn't wait to stand out from my rather dull heritage.

So I trudged to his office one day, alone and vulnerable. I was so naive, so ignorant. Ignorance truly is bliss, and deep down a part of me truly wondered what it was I was getting into.

I swallowed and stopped, briefly considering backing out. I couldn't deny how nervous I was, yet to stop now would be madness; this was a new opportunity of unprecented importance for me. I proceeded to knock on the door, and very faintly I heard a, "Come in." I was surprised at how soft the voice was, and I took one last look at the large door before me and grabbed the handle. My hands were incredibly sweaty, I was nervous beyond comprehension it seemed. I stepped in and saw two hands holding up a newspaper at the desk before me. His silhouette was lightly lit up behind it by the light of the window behind him. _The _Captain Hazama.

The office was very neat and tidy. Beside the desk's left and right were book shelves filled with ancient tomes and readings of rather strict and boring legal information and history, as well as some of the more interesting observational historic works. Among them I saw a few Ars books-rather peculiar for an investigator and researcher such as him. Not that the Ars arts were beyond him, but accordingly it seemed a bit odd. I simply shrugged it off and quickly returned my attention to him, realizing how rude I may have been being.

Before I could even say anything I heard another light knock on the door behind me. I turned to see a beautiful red haired girl. She was the same height as me and wearing a strange beige outfit with odd markings on it. I believe her name was Tsubaki Yayoi, she was just recently promoted to the Zero Squadron and was a star of her class. She was very serene, almost a shining aura of transcendent balance and poise that made me rather curious. I quickly noticed she had an odd expression on her face; I would almost swear her bottom lip was trembling. It was odd, seeing such beauty so disheveled, so clearly uncomfortable. Her blue eyes lit up by the light of the window. She slowly looked down at her boots, her face growing more and more sullen.

"I'm heading out sir," she muttered; her voice shaky and hollow.

I couldn't turn around.

It was odd, suddenly I couldn't move. Something deep inside me, inside my consciousness and subconsciousness stirred-something horrendous. I don't know why I was so frightened by the idea but I simply knew turning around meant death. A twisted premonition of doom reared inside my mind. I hadn't even seen him yet but I knew he was looking past the newspaper now, past me, straight into the poor, beautiful girl before me. His gaze was visible, it was literally drawn in the air by faint and dark lines it seemed. What visual metaphor my mind had made for something I barely understood-what was happening to me?

I saw her face go pale, not just a lighter tone, but a very deep sickly tone that seemed to almost paint her as a walking corpse. She looked like she had seen death, like there was the very devil himself in the room. I began to get more frightened, she was tracing my exact feelings. She had caught his gaze and deep inside her I felt a mental breakdown of sorts, a sort of horrid realization of hopelessness and dread, her beautiful and frail figure began to drain; essence slipping into the polished floor boards.

"Good luck first lieutenant Yayoi," I heard in that same, soft voice I heard earlier.

It sounded almost gleeful, sickeningly gleeful. Tsubaki stood there frozen, an almost bewildered expression on her face. I couldn't quite figure out what was wrong with her. She seemed so uncertain if she should turn around and leave. She knew she had a mission to do, yet I couldn't help but feel that she was too scared to turn her back to him anymore. Her body was locked in a mental and physical battle of dominance. I was too terrified to turn and face him myself on the contrary. She made eye contact with me, her eyes were so entrancing—yet a terror clearly sat within them. She looked back down, and lightly bowed. When she looked up, I could see faint tears in her eyes. Something was wrong here, something was _very_ wrong.

She turned and walked off. I could see her steps lightening up as she disappeared into the distance, an aura of fear still there yet a lightening sense of happiness that she had gotten the hell out of there. She had escaped the dull and dingy space of his office, of doom that loomed over us within this empty and distant hollow on the edge of the world. I didn't want to look away, I didn't want to ever stop looking down the long hall out of here. I wanted to stay dreaming, stay away from this thing behind me. Why had I accepted this job? Was I insane? Finally I became aware of how absolutely terrible of an idea this was, how little I knew about this man. There was a reason people didn't like his company. There was a reason people didn't like talking about him. There was a reason he didn't have any assistants. He consumed them. He ate them up. They couldn't handle the weight of his aura—no his presence, and simply collapsed into themselves and disappeared like dying stars.

I muttered that under my breath, "Like dying stars."

There was silence, an absolute silence.

I stood there facing the doorway, slowly—millimeter by millimeter, turning to face the Thing. I heard the paper being folded up behind me. I heard it set down. I heard him cough and clear his throat. I heard something that was human, but clearly had something behind him that wasn't—it's hard to explain. I turned around, my face beat red and sweating like crazy now. I made damn sure to keep my eyes locked onto my feet. My shiny black shoes looked so shiny, _so shiny. _ I kept echoing that in my head as the silence killed me over and over again. My notions of completion and confirmation were gone, I was gone. I was simply an empty shell going through its termination motions, the hideous futility of the revelation of my situation completely shattering my psyche. Finally I heard him speak. "So, you're the new one eh?"

I looked up, I made the mistake of looking up straight at _him_.

There was no sound. It was like he knew I had nothing to say. It isn't that I didn't want to say something, it was just that—there was nothing to say. I remembered my trembling knees, so weak and frail. I was so weak and frail and this thing before me, this thing could break me like a twig, and it knew this.

He was a younger man, about 25 I'd guess, wearing a very nice black suit and had an overall clean and appropriate appearance. Yet his face, his eyes—they were the most indescribable things I've ever seen. Physically, between the pale and perfect complexion, the large smile that seemed sickeningly glued to his face, and the golden tint in his eyes seemed almost serpent like. They bored large holes into me—into my very soul. There was an ancient and awful evil inside of them. I felt something abyssal, something that concocted images of blackness and void from only the most distant chasms of the cosmos. I remember cocking my head like I was confused, and I was—I had no idea why I was there. I had forgotten—no—I had chosen to forget. I couldn't look away from him, and that was the worst mistake I could have ever made.

There was something that was older than time itself before me. Captain Hazama was an image, a façade. The thing behind him, the thing I had heard behind his voice earlier; that was the true Hazama. A sort of blasphemous mirage backed by an evil that transcended time and space. It sort of slithered in the silence, in the indecisive blur that mind was in. I wanted to daydream, to get out of there, I couldn't breathe. It was so heavy, the air was so heavy and I just couldn't catch my breath. I felt like throwing up, I got even sicker when I thought I heard a light chuckle from him. What was happening to me? Was this real? Was he real? I began to get dizzy.

"Y-yes sir. . ." I choked out, gently putting my hand on the chair next to me to catch myself. His eyes were literally pulling the ceiling down onto me it felt, there was something really dense in my throat—vomit? No—this was just terror.

I was also getting frustrated too, I knew this shell wasn't the real thing and it was bugging me. I couldn't take this any longer. Just then I got what I wanted. I saw _It, _I saw the thing behind him. It was his shadow—yet it was also on the window behind him. The pasty thing on the window behind him coalesced and formed something I can't quite describe.

It was simply evil, it was just plain evil. The thing, the shadow, the form, it was an incredibly deep void. The blackened cosmic emptiness inside of it seemed to pull the room into it, to pull me into it. I began to feel myself being ripped from my body, my psyche being pulled from my very mind. It seemed to be sunk into the desk and into the window. In that moment I noticed it, it seemed to make a hole in reality and show itself to me. It had its claws inside my skull.. I could see Captain Hazama smiling and the thing also sharing the same gleeful expression with a crimson, glowing slit on its-what appeared to be a face. I couldn't really tell if it was a face, it was up where the head would be on its dark form. There was a large yellow orb for an eye above the shit-eating grin. It was literally gazing down on me from the heavens itself—a place it didn't belong.

There was glowing green veins of some sort emanating off of the abyssal chasm of a body this thing had.

"You aren't Hazama," I whispered under my breath.

I don't know why I said that but it felt right. I couldn't stop mumbling it actually, I kept repeating it again and again, "You aren't Hazama, you aren't Hazama."

Captain Hazama chuckled, "Oh, a smart one?" he said, standing up. The shadow behind him fading a bit and raising up. "Call me Terumi kiddo," The shadow—and Captain Hazama said. "Let me correct you though, I am Hazama, but my real name is Terumi; remember that," _they _added.

I began to feel faint, like I would collapse any moment. I felt that this isn't how it always was around him—no otherwise he wouldn't be able to interact with anyone, or get a job for that matter. No he must've been showing off, doing everything he can to scare me, to remind me of my place under him. I remembered the shut doors behind me. I remembered how I was his new assistant and from now on, this _Thing _was my boss—if I crossed him-I shuttered at the thought. I swallowed and felt my body sink into the floor.

"Well, are you ready for your first assignment?" Captain Hazama—Terumi said. I couldn't say no, I knew this was my purpose from now on. Nodding I took my seat. This surely was all a dream, but I knew that was not the case. I was here forever until I _wasn't needed_ anymore. I would disappear like the rest of them. I would be consumed like the rest of them. Everyone would know what happened, but no one could stop him, no one could end his reign of terror. I was in between the life I had and the life that was to be taken from me—I was simply 'The new one.'


End file.
